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I’ve tried to write this one reversing the usual male/female characters. It’s a slow burner with a gradual build up.
The main character is American and I’m not, so I apologise if I have made any mistakes translating British to American.
*
Sitting at my desk, I find myself watching the office clock tick over to 12:30. Finally passing the midpoint in the week. Hurray! Fewer minutes of drudgery until I can escape the office for the few brief hours of the weekend. It’s not the job itself that is so bad, but after a drunken misunderstanding at a Christmas party, over an unwanted kiss under the mistletoe. I’ve been on the shitty end of the stick ever since. And as I was neither the person drunk nor the person insisting on the kiss, that seems extremely unfair. It was my team leader Carol, and my rejection of her advances might have passed as a harmless misunderstanding. If she’d not managed to do it in front of virtually the entire company and made a big fuss about it.
At first her reprisal was to spread a rumour I was gay, which was kind of childish, but I could live with that. I never hang out with anyone from the company anyway. Then she switched to what makes my life a misery today. Ensuring I get allocated all the trickiest and most time consuming cases and then pointing out to our supervisor that I’m failing to meet my targets. I’d complain except for two things. First is the pair are BFFs and the second, and I’ll admit this is my fault, I’d nicknaming our supervisor ‘the dragon’ and she overheard.
Greg, at the next desk, throws a paperclip past me and whispers.
“Josh, you’re not doing yourself any favours spacing out like that. Have you even done the Johnson file?”
“Almost…” I lie. It was the next file in the in-tray.
“Just a warning mate, I overheard ‘the dragon’ talking to the boss in the break room. She promised consequences for any of her staff who failed to meet their quotas.”
“About time to!” Carol adds with a vindictive grin, proving she was eavesdropping again.
“Mr Anderson!” ‘The dragon’ calls over, stopping us dead. “Ms Terry would like to see you in her office right away.” The colour drains from my face.
“Fuck ‘J’ now you’re for it.” Greg exclaims.
“Should I empty your desk now?” Carol asks bitchily.
Ignoring this and the sneer on ‘the Dragon’s’ face as I head to the lift. I feel like a condemned man, on the way to the gallows. Adele, her secretary busy on the phone, waves me right into the Boss’s office. Ms Terry is also on the phone, so I stand in front of her desk feeling like a schoolboy in front of his headmistress. My mind wanders as I wait. It would be quite easy to have a headmistress fantasy about Ms Terry. Despite that she always wore rather severely tailored trouser suits, she was attractive. In her mid to late thirties with ash blond hair. The suits couldn’t hide her curvy figure completely. She glances at me and the fantasy crumbles. Wait! What am I doing? I’m standing in front of the boss, expecting to be fired, and I’m thinking about sex. Remember who she is? She scares the crap out of almost everyone in the office. Her refined British accent just adds to the impact of the tongue lashing you get, if she thinks you aren’t pulling your weight. I’d seen men in their fifties reduced to jello after five minutes in her office. She puts the phone down and turns all her attention to me.
“I have had a number of negative reports about you.” Crap! Perhaps Carol was right about clearing my desk. “However, I always investigate both sides before making important decisions that affect people’s employment status.” I wonder if I’ll have time to recover my lunch from the break room before I go.
“So, I have decided you should attend the convention with me at the end of the week. You know we have the Denver convention this week?”
“Of course, Ms Terry.” I lie; I never read the department bulletins.
“The person I usually go with is unavailable….” The office rumour has it that she and the guy, Steve who she normally went with, had a thing going on at the annual convention. His wife found out, and cracked his skull with a frying pan. A bit Looney Tunes I know, but it added fuel to the rumour. “So, I have decided you should attend this year in his place. We will have plenty of times to talk about these reports on the drive there.” There isn’t a hint of request about this. Not that I wouldn’t sacrifice my weekend to save my job. I’d only be alone in my apartment, staring at the walls otherwise.
“I do kinda have a full workload at the moment…” I hedge.
“Pass your files back to Carol. She is always claiming to be the best in your section, I am sure she can cope.” Her smile proves she knows more about our teams working than I’d expect. “Adele will give you the details and inform your supervisor.”
“Why me? I know nothing about sales.”
“You do not need to, I handle all that. Your role is purely admin and to look good behind the counter.” A smile crosses her face, for barely illegal bahis an instant. That sounds like I’m supposed to be just eye candy. Perhaps she believes the rumours of me being gay?
Only when I get home do I realise I don’t have a suitable bag to take. My gym bag hasn’t been touched in months, not since the free trial period at the gym expired. And even without opening it I can tell it stinks. Then I remember my neighbour Amber, she’s an air hostess and is bound to have a spare bag I can borrow. Only problem is she wouldn’t be home until really late.
In the morning, after nearly five minutes of knocking on Amber’s door, growing guiltier by the second for disturbing her so early. Just as I’m trying to figure out if I can get in any more trouble for using her spare key. I don’t want to just walk in, as you never knew when she’d bring someone home.
The door opens to reveal the dark tousled beauty of Amber yawning and blinking at me.
“Hey ‘J’ it’s kinda early ya know?” She asked in her soft southern drawl. She’d sort of taken me under her wing when I first moved in. Lending me stuff at first and teasing me over my lack of girlfriends. In return, I collected her mail and watered her plants on her frequent trips. “Sorry, I know. I’d never disturb you this early normally, but I’ve got to go to a convention in Denver and I need to borrow a bag.”
“Going up in the world? Sure, come in.” That’s what I love about Amber; she’s like a big sister to me.
The door opens as she walks away, the sister analogy wobbles. She’s wearing a bright orange semi-transparent baby doll nightie. It highlights her slim frame and graceful movements. Now I’m thinking stepsister or distant cousin and it still feels weird. Her bedroom floods my nostrils with her perfume, but is as messy as usual. She may look spectacular, but she lives like a slob.
“There is a bag at the back of the wardrobe, help yourself. I drank too much last night.” She collapses face down on the bed and the nightie flips up exposing a matching thong and her great ass.
“Any reason?” I ask, looking away quickly and trying to clear the abandoned clothes to open the wardrobe door.
“I was planning on hooking up with Duncan last night, but the jerk said he had to go back home to his wife.” I don’t want to hear any more intimate details of her casual affair with one of her colleagues. She often whined about her string of casual lovers, and seeing her in her ‘fuck me’ lingerie just made mental imagery a little too real for me. Opening the door to grab the exposed handle, pulling it out from under a pile of shoes.
“It’s pink!” I whine.
“What? That threatens your masculinity? I know for a fact you’re not gay.” Looking over to see she’s rolled onto her side, pulled one knee up. That just makes her ass look even better. However, what derails my train of thought is her near perfect bust almost falling out of the built-in bra. She’s grinning and looking at my crotch. The bitch is tormenting me again.
I sigh and self-consciously move the bag to cover the growing bulge.
“If it was just me, I wouldn’t care, but this is a work trip and…”
“And you’ve not followed my instructions to bang a ‘hottie’ from the office. That would kill the rumours that bitch started.”
“Probably true, but you teasing me again, we talked about this and its cruel.”
“Whatever can I do to make up for it?” She asks coyly, rolling onto her back. The crotch of her panties is exposed and I’m sure I can make out the edge of a nipple. I was pretty sure she was just teasing. She has no real interest in me except as a friend and little brother substitute, but a hung-over and horny Amber might not be thinking clearly and might do something she’d regret later.
“You’re a meany!” I respond, in a silly voice and force a grin to break the tension. “Gotta go.” Hurrying towards the front door.
“Sorry, oh! Hang on I think I left something in that bag.”
“What?” I call with my hand on the door.
“Nothing important. Enjoy yourself.”
Getting into the office before anyone else allows me to hide the bag out of sight under my desk. Greg, for one, would give me shit for having a pink bag. Opening my email, I find one from Adele telling me to meet the boss at the lifts at 11:45 sharp.
Checking the time on my phone and ignoring the sniggering from Greg as I grab my bag and hurry off to meet the boss. I make it with minutes to spare, but the same rules don’t apply for her. She arrives with her phone glued to her ear half an hour late.
In the basement car park, we jump into a very flash Range Rover, leather seats and the whole nine yards. My bag goes into the back seat and we start out, but the instant we hit the interstate the traffic snarls up.
“Fuck!” She startles me as she slams her fist down on steering wheel. “I left my sodding bag back in my office. Crap! I will have to make do with hotel toiletries and the overnight laundry service. Bollocks.” Something about her swearing in illegal bahis siteleri her classy accent is funny and I struggle to smother my grin.
When she stops swearing she looks over her shoulder at my bag in the back seat.
“I like your bag though, nice shade of pink.” my heart sinks, now I know I’m expected to be the gay eye candy for the convention. I explain about borrowing the bag.
“Sorry I thought you were Gay. Not that there is anything wrong with that, it is just the rumour around the office.” I don’t see a way out of it, so I explain about Carol and the incident at Christmas. Ms Terry adds two and two together.
“So, she started the rumour?”
“Yeah. Not that it bothers me too much. It’s not like I socialise with anyone from the office.”
“So, who do you hang out with?” I hesitate before going on. Honesty seems the best policy here.
“Nobody really, I can’t afford it.” Realising this sounds like criticism of the company, I hastily explain. “I took a lease on a nice apartment, but I’ve not been able to find someone to share the rent. So, I rarely go out. It’s not so bad, at least I have my work.” I finish, trying to seem enthusiastic, but Ms Terry seems to see through that as well.
“I take it the rumour was not all Carol did?” What do I say? Whine about her treatment of me like a kid or try to be grown up and pretend it didn’t bother me. It turns out the Boss had figured it out herself. “I take it she uses her friendship with, what do you call her supervisor? The Dragon?” Crap, that wasn’t supposed to be known beyond Greg and me. “To push the hard cases your direction and complain when you miss your deadlines?” It seems she knows more than anyone would have suspected about the operation of our team.
“Yeah. And any complaints must go through my supervisor, her ‘BFF’.”
“I hate that fucking bollocks!” She turns to look at me. “You have to believe me, I am trying to sort that sort pf shit in this company.” Turning back to watch the road for a few seconds she adds. “Perhaps, we can see how Carol does with you away for a couple of days. Then we might see about reassessing her as your team leader.” God! That would be wonderful I thought, but I was diplomatic enough not to say anything.
That seems to put an end to the conversation and we drove in silence. Occasionally she’d think of something, ask me to make a note or check her diary. My phone is in my hand most of the way. As we’re entering the outskirts of Denver, she changes the subject to a topic I though wouldn’t be mentioned.
“I am sure you have heard the rumours about me and Steve?” I expect her to go on to say they were as false as those of me being gay. “Well, they’re true. We had a more than, strictly speaking, a professional relationship at these conventions for several years. But we always said what happened at convention stays at convention.” She seems to wait for a reaction from me. Could I act surprised enough to convince her, or not? Instead when she looked over, I shrug. “To be honest, part of the reason I chose you was because when I thought you were gay, it would have helped downplay the rumours about Steve and I.” After a long pause she adds. “Oh, and I expect what I just told you to remain between us. Only my secretary and Steve know for sure. So if I hear a peep of this…”
“Don’t worry. I’m not one for gossip.”
We reach the hotel in Denver around 6pm and she obviously knows her way as she pulls into the parking structure without preamble.
“Does the hotel have a gym or pool?” I ask.
“Probably, but we are not finished working by a long shot. We have to build and decorate our booth ready for tomorrow.” A shuttle bus drops us off at the convention centre 10 minutes later. The place is vast and when we find where our booth is to go there’s just a pile of parts and a pallet full of sales literature.
It took another 4 hours to assemble the booth, hang the laminated posters and corporate marketing the way she wanted it. I was tired, hungry and a little testy by the time we head back to the hotel. And certainly not prepared for what I found there.
She joins the queue to check in and minutes later, comes back looking annoyed.
“Oh, fuck my arse with a barge pole.” The mental image from the British idiom is confusing. “I thought I told Adele to change the booking. Remind me to give her a bollocking next week.” I have my phone out to note it, unsure if she’s serious.
“What’s the matter?”
“It seems the booking wasn’t changed after you replaced Steve.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning the arrangements was set up when I expected to be with Steve. So, one room and one bed.” It was only her annoyed demeanour that stopped me smirking. Then it sunk in. I’d be sleeping in the same room and bed as the Boss. The same boss I’d started to fantasise about only yesterday. As Ms Terry would say ‘Bollocks’.
She hooks her arm through mine and leads me towards the lifts.
“I am sorry Joshua, but there is no chance to canlı bahis siteleri sort this out tonight. The hotels are fully booked for this convention. Besides I’m too tired to even try right now. I will try to sort it out tomorrow, there may be a cancellation. Oh, and given the circumstances I think you should call me Marianne. It seems impolite not to know the first name of the person you’re going to be sleeping with.” As the lift doors open I see my blush in the mirror and a suppressed smirk on her face at my embarrassment. “If it wasn’t for the injunction about not saying anything about what happens here, you could certainly quash the gay rumours. Sleeping with your nth degree boss.” I know I’d not say anything, but I also know Greg will pester me for weeks asking if I ‘filled in’ for Steve in every way.
She hands me the key card and I open the door to ‘our’ room. The first thing to catch my eye is the fully mirrored wall facing the door, but my eyes are drawn to the one large bed. Putting down my bag I turn to Marianne. “Do you think there are any more blankets and pillows? I can sleep on the floor.”
“Don’t be daft. That bed is enormous. You could have half a dozen people on it.” Something about the way she says this, sounds a little odd to me.
She slips into the bathroom and I try to figure out how awkward this is going to be as I open my bag to unpack.
Hearing the toilet flush, Marianne returns.
“OK, we have another little snag. I’ve nothing to sleep in. Have you a t-shirt I could borrow?”
Without thinking I hand over my solitary t-shirt before realising it means I’ll be sleeping in my underwear. She retreats to the bathroom again, so I switch on the dim bedside lights and flop down on the bed. The mirror covering the wall makes the room look huge and I wish the second bed in the reflection was real.
As the door to the bathroom opens I couldn’t help looking over as Marianne comes back. My skinny t-shirt was very snug on her and I found myself staring at her curves. The swell of her hips, the tiny bulge of her tummy, her naked and shapely legs. But what truly demanded me attention was her breasts; my shirt would be forever stretched out of shape from this. The material strained and showing a hint of nipple. Turning her back to me, she takes off her earrings and rings to put them on her nightstand, but my eyes are glued to her ass. It too stretches my t-shirt, but two things capture my attention. The first is there are no signs of underwear, and second, is the shirt only just covers her ass. If she were to bend forward just a little…
“Damn, can you help with this? The sodding catch always sticks.” she turns and leans over the bed, proffering her bracelet for my assistance. However, it wasn’t the expensively gold jewellery that draws my eyes. The bed is large and she’s leaning far over it to let me reach her wrist. The upshot was her breasts now hang down and sway before me. The hint of nipple from mere minutes before have been replaced with replaced with hard pebbles. Unfortunately, they’re not only thing that is hard. Marianne’s eyes drift my groin and she seems to be pleased by what she sees. Somehow, I fumble the catch free, before hurry to the bathroom.
Looking in the mirror it’s hard to imagine how a body has enough blood to support both the blush and the erection. Wearing boxes and a lightweight baggy suit were not doing me any favours. As I slip off my trousers, my cock springs free from my boxers. Crap, there is no way I can sleep next to Marianne in these. I’ll have to grab my briefs from my bag.
Right now, I’m also regretting my normal pre-bedtime rituals. With no money, meaning almost no chance of getting a girlfriend. Results in porn and masturbation most nights. Somehow, I get the impression she’ll know if I knock one out, so I reluctantly step into the shower and turn the temperature down.
The next few minutes in the coldest shower of my life reminds me of an old daffy duck cartoons where the he has an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. Each countering the other’s advice.
She’s more than a dozen years my senior – That’s in her sexual prime.
She’s your boss – Who has been coming here for years to fuck one of her employees.
She thought you were gay – Yet teases you in that t-shirt.
Keep it formal with her, think of her as Ms Terry – Yes, Ms Terry sounds like a stripper name ‘Mystery’.
Somehow my erection disappears and after drying myself I realise I’ve left my toothbrush in the bedroom. Wrapping a towel around my waist I tiptoe into the bedroom to find Marianne sitting up in bed with a drink in one hand and her phone in another.
“Don’t worry, it takes me a while to wind down.” I notice the two empty miniatures of gin on her night stand.
“I just need my toothbrush.” Grabbing my toiletries and briefs. She doesn’t look up, but asks.
“Any chance I could use that after you? I know it’s a little weird, but I know I’ve nothing contagious and I don’t mind putting something of yours in my mouth.” My brain flips at the double meaning, but she’d said it with no hint of anything else. No different than if she was ordering a coffee. All I can do it mumble an OK, wondering of it’s my imagination on how that sounds.
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